Aftershock
Very late that night, after the uproar had died down, Lady Mary slipped into her brother's room, as she had done on a previous occasion. As on that other night, Lord Peter was seated before the fire, lost in thought. Mary settled herself on the hearthrug by his chair.
"So that's what you've been about," she mused aloud. "It was awfully sporting of you to set off the bomb just then and there, Peter. But I'm sorry the ceiling had to fall on you."
Wimsey stirred from his reverie. "Think nothin' of it," he said gallantly, with a brotherly pat on her head. But his sister thought he looked a little weary.
"Peter, what's Miss Vane like? I don't know much beyond the bare outlines of the case. Charles never said a great deal about her. But Mother seemed to like her."
"Oh . . ." Peter made a restless gesture. "Just the only woman in the world, that's all."
Lady Mary carefully controlled her facial expression, but she had felt a strange little shock inside, not unlike what Charles Parker had felt before her. Her brother sounded so unlike himself.
"And how does she feel?" she asked, gently.
"About me? Not much, I'm afraid." Lord Peter's lips twisted wryly. "An idiot, full of sound and fury . . . signifyin' nothing."
"Surely not. After all you've done—at the very least, she must feel—"
"Grateful?" Peter broke in with an abruptness that made her start. "Yes—that. The very last thing . . ." His words dropped away.
Lady Mary sat silent a moment, watching his averted face. Then she reached up and rested her hand lightly on his.
"Suppose I were to ring her up and tell her it would be a great mistake to let you slip through her fingers?" At her brother's incredulous snort, she added, smiling, "You did as much for me, after all."
She was gratified to see the lines around his mouth relax, as if he were tempted to smile himself. But he only squeezed her hand briefly, before releasing it.
"It's late, old girl," he said. "You'd better go to bed."
"Go to blazes," returned Lady Mary, affectionately, and slipped out.